Puff Fiction
by TateThePowerpuffFan
Summary: Finally, a recreation of the all-time cult classic film, "Pulp Fiction," using characters from the Powerpuff Girls! Brick & Boomer play two bumbling mob hit men, Butch is a washed-up boxer who is controlled by his pride in winning, Buttercup is the wife of a mob boss, and Elmer & Blossom play the two unlucky diner bandits. There's a lot going on down in The city of Townsville!
1. The Diner

**Disclaimer:**** Of course I don't own the ****_Powerpuff Girls_**** or the rights to ****_Pulp Fiction_****. They belong to Craig McCracken and Quentin Tarantino, respectively.**

**Character Roles (To Avoid Confusion):**

**Boomer- Vincent Vega**

**Brick- Jules Winnfield**

**Buttercup- Mia Wallace**

**Mojo Jojo- Marcellus Wallace**

**Butch- Butch Coolidge**

**Sedusa- Taxi Cab Driver**

**Bubbles- Fabienne**

**Dick Hardly- Capt. Koons**

******Blossom**- Yolanda/Honey Bunny

**Elmer- Ringo/Pumpkin**

**Mitch- Lance**

**Princess Morbucks- Jody  
**

**Robin- Trudy**

**Professor- Brett**

**Snake- Robert**

**Grubber- Marvin**

**Lil' Arturo- 4th Man in Bathroom**

**The Mayor- Jimmie**

**Ace- The Wolf**

**HIM- Zed**

**Fuzzy Lumpkins- Maynard**

**P.S. The profanity and drug content will be significantly reduced to maintain a T-rating, but all main story elements will remain. Also, in this story, the characters of the show are NOT related to each other in this story, as they are in the show. Enjoy!**

* * *

**The Diner**

_It's a beautiful morning in the city of Townsville, and where else can one go for a good breakfast other than one of the many locally-owned and operated diners? This is where our story partially begins, with two rather suspicious-looking characters whispering at a window-side booth. Let's see what's going on..._

"I don't think we should go through with this, Blossom whispered to Elmer. The two were sitting together in a diner, awaiting their breakfast.

"What makes you think that?" He asked her. "Garçon! Can I get some orange juice?" He shouted out at a waitress walking past while he held up an empty glass. He then turned back towards his teacher. "The service here is ridiculous. I'm amazed that they can still keep afloat, financially!" They remained at a whisper.

"Well hopefully, their finances will be in our hands, very soon... anyways, please explain what is is, that we're doing again."

"Okay, look. This is a piggy-bank of an opportunity that we got here, right? If you stop and look around, you'd realize that this is probably the greatest low-rate heist opportunity on this side of the earth! Nobody **_ever_** robs restaurants. This would be infinitely easier than robbing a local bank, or even a gas station, because people are just **_waiting_** at those places for someone to gain the balls to even **_attempt_** a hold-up, know what I mean? These days, people are armed to the teeth when it comes down to protecting their greens, and these days, people get their heads blown off when they attack those clerks!"

"So, what makes restaurants any different?"

"I'll tell you what makes them different, Sugar-cakes! These places don't think that there's anybody in this rancid town that would go to an eatery for the money! These customers ain't thinking about guns being aimed at their heads while they're enjoying their hash browns or something! The trick behind victims is that you have to catch em' while their pants are down with their rods in their hands! And the employees? Forget about getting any help from them! What, do ya' think that their gonna risk their lives over some strangers to protect a job like this? Of course not! They probably hate it here, and their boss is probably some soulless mongloid who they hate, as well! What might they get out of protecting these people, some kinda promotion from floor sweeper to freakin' cashier or somethin'? They wouldn't risk their lives over some trashy, annoying minimum wage position. Don't even get me started on the manager. He would be the most useless! He would cower and tremble, instructing all these saps to do exactly what we tell em' to do, cause' as long as his fat ass is still breathing, he's gonna mindlessly dictate these suckers to do whatever it takes to keep **_his_** worthless, selfish self alive! **_Now_** are you starting to see as to why I picked this restaurant as our new cash cow?"

The waitress from earlier came by and sat a glass of orange juice next to Elmer's arm. "Garçon' means 'boy," she told him as she walked away.

Blossom smiled. "You're an absolute genius."

"Yeah, I guess I am... Do you remember your idea to collect the wallets from the people that we held up?"

"Well, of course I do. How could I not?"

"Now **_that_** was a good idea. Prepare yourself to do that, as well." Blossom looked around and observed the restaurant once more, checking out the different people who were seated in various booths and chairs, reading newspapers or conversing.

"Just know that I don't want to actually **_kill_** anyone," she told Elmer.

"Well, I don't want to kill anyone, either, but we must make sure that this operation goes smooth as silk. We could be locked up for a **_long_** time if this fails!"

"I bet you could cut down on the 'hero factor' in a place like this..." she grinned. Elmer nodded. "I'm ready. Let's do this, right here, right now!"

Elmer pulled a handgun out of his jacket-pocket and set it on the table for Blossom. "Same as last time?"

"You handle the employees, I'll handle the customers." She swooned, "I love you, Paste Face."

"I love you, Cherry Pie." Suddenly, he stood up and waved his own gun around at the customers. "**_Everybody be cool, this' a robbery!_**" Everybody froze in terror

Blossom grabbed the gun on the table and stood up on her seat cushion, "**_Any of you pricks _move_, and I'll execute every single last one of you!_**"


	2. Prelude: Boomer & Mojo Jojo's Wife

**Prelude: Boomer & Mojo Jojo's Wife**

_It's a beautiful morning in the city of Townsville. Our next batch of individuals are two men dressed in black, looking sharp and quite professional, named Brick and Boomer. They are rolling down the highway in a flashy green Cadillac._

"I gotta say, everyday in Amsterdam felt like an entire American year," Boomer started conversing in the passenger seat, "Don't get me wrong, brother, I was diggin' the life over there, but home has always been more for me."

"Well, I'm glad you're back, man. Amsterdam sounds like quite the place. Tell me more about it," Brick took interest.

"Obviously, there's quite a few things that're different over there from here. For example, at their movie theaters, you can walk in and buy a beer. I ain't talking about no dainty little cup, I'm talkin' a full, glass bottle, or even a pitcher if you ask for one. On top of that, they take smokehouses to an entirely new level. Trust me, if you walk into a restaurant that allows smoking, that ain't no cigarette smoke that's cloudin' up the air, I tell you what!"

"Like, they don't care if people do all that hashish or pot or nothin' in their restaurants?"

"Well, they **_do_** have limits, it's just that over there, drug laws are so much more lenient."

"Does McDonalds allow it?" Brick asked with anticipation, shifting his eyes between the road and Boomer.

"Not from what I gathered over there. Speaking of McDonalds, that reminds me of when I went to one over in Paris, a few months ago. You see, in Europe, they have the metric system, so they have absolutely no idea what stuff like pounds and feet and whatever other stuff is, so obviously, they have different names for foods or anything with something customary in the name that we give it."

"What's your point?"

"So, like, I went in and ordered a quarter-pounder with cheese one time, and they had no idea what I was talking about. Then, I pointed to the electronic overhead menu at the quarter-pounder, and when they understood what it was I was telling em', they said that they don't call _quarter-pounders with cheese_, quarter-pounders with cheese."

"So what do they call em' in France?"

"They call it, _'royale with cheese_." He formed an arch with his hands to emphasize the French accent.

"**_Royale with cheese_**.' That actually sounds more delicious than a quarter-pounder!" Brick began to salivate. "What do they call a Big Mac?"

"Well, a Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they're French, so they call it '_le Big Mac_."

"Heheh, **_le Big Mac-a_**!" Brick repeated in a mock French accent. He had sprouted a giant smile, and the thought of food was only watering it. "So, what do they call a Whopper?"

"I dunno, I didn't go into BK."

"Man, I don't care what anyone thinks, I am **_going_**!"

_They drove for a little while longer, talking and laughing, until they finally pulled into an apartment complex_. _They found an empty slot and pulled in. Afterwards, the two stepped out and popped the trunk, which was loaded with an arsenal of handguns and submachine guns. Both boys took their signature weapons And tucked them under their belts, around their waists._

_"_How many guys do you think we'll be up against?" Boomer asked with a stone cold face.

"There's definitely three, maybe four, but no more than five." Brick responded, locking a clip into his pistol. "We should've brought shotguns for this job," he muttered.

"Eh, we've had heavier assignments."

_Boomer shut and locked the trunk, and then he and Brick to walked towards the main building._

"So what's his wife's name, again?" Boomer asked about his boss' new wife.

"Buttercup. Her name's Buttercup."

"Well, now at least I know her name. How did they meet?"

"Well, she was in the media business, and ended up in one of those TV pilots."

"What's a pilot?"

"Well, for TV shows, it's basically the name of the first episode, okay?"

"I don't watch TV."

"Well, you are aware that in this world, there's an invention called 'television,' and on that 'television,' they play shows called 'shows,' right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, a pilot is a bit more than just the first episode, it's more of like, the determining factor for a series. After they're made, they're shown to a bunch of different executives who then decide the fate. If they like them and feel that it's got something going, then the pilot gets picked up and becomes a TV show. If they don't feel it, well then the pilot just stays there and becomes nothing, and that's that. She happened to be in one of the ones that became nothing."

_They walked inside and into an open elevator. They pushed the button for the sixth floor, and stepped back into the elevator as the doors closed._

"I see. At least to me if she made it to that point, she must've at least been something."

"Hell, I suppose... so, word through the homeboys tells me that the big man has selected you for a personal assignment while he's away," Brick told Boomer, holding his hands down at his waist, by the wrists.

"Well technically, yeah, but he's just having me take his wife out while he's gone."

"Woah, woah, you mean he wants you to ice his **_wife_** for him?" Brick was surprised.

"No, he doesn't want me to kill her. He just wants me to keep her some company, you know, so she doesn't get lonely while he's gone."

"Are you telling me that you're taking Buttercup Jojo out on a date?"

"No, I'm sayin' that if she wants a night out on the town, well then, **_I'll_** have to give her a night out on the town!"

"That sounds more conspicuous than you could ever fathom. But I thought he and his girl were doin' just fine, that's what got me!" He began laughing.

"Nah. I mean, they are gettin' along as they should, it's just that he told me how she can get lonesome and worried if she doesn't have any company, so he simply chose me to fill the void."

"Alright, whatever you say, friend. Just be careful with her, kay'? I hear Mojo's extremely protective of her."

_There was a short pause as the elevator doors opened, and both boys slowly began to walk down the hallway, scanning over the room numbers of the doors they passed_.

"Have you heard about what happened to Mike?" Brick started up again.

"The short, timid, pale guy, Mike? No, what happened?" Boomer wondered.

"Mojo got him **_good_**."

"So, what happened?"

"Well, not too long ago, Mojo sent about four guys to his place, and they broke in, seized him, and tossed him **_through_** his window. The sucker then dropped four straight floors down, and landed on this little glass greenhouse at the bottom. The poor bastard went **_through_** that-"

"Damn," Boomer interrupted. "Is he dead?" He had suddenly become terrified of his boss.

"Believe it or not, no, but I think the guy got brain damage or something, cuz ever since, he's developed this screwed up, speech impediment that he can't seem to shake off."

"Why are you telling me this on the day that I have to go take care of his **_wife_**?"

"Because this is all tied to his wife!"

"In what way?"

"Apparently, Mike did something to his wife that Mojo didn't like."

"Like what?"

"Word has it that he gave her a foot massage." Boomer stopped walking and just stared at Brick for a few seconds, eyes bulging.

"A foot massage? A **_foot massage_**? Mojo had Mikey **_thrown from his four-story window, and reduced to a bumbling mongloid_**, for giving his wife a _**foot massage**_?"

"That's the word," Brick shrugged. "Hey, I think this is the room," he stopped and pointed at one of the doors. "What time you got?" Boomer checked his bronze watch.

"I got 7:22 in the AM," He shuddered, still thinking about Mike.

"We still have time to kill."

"Anyways, back to the current conversation," Boomer started up again. They began to walk away from the door, back down the hall. "What's wrong with Mojo? Nearly killing Mike for touching his wife's feet? What, does he crucify everyone in a restaurant if the waiter messes up her order?" He was grabbing his hair.

"Hey, don't ask me. That's just what I heard."

"But, was that it? Like, he didn't bang her or nothin?"

"No, I guess not."

"That's the part I don't get. If all he did was rub her feet, then why would Mojo do such a thing to a guy like Mikey? The two have known each other for years! Screwing a man's wife and giving her a foot massage aren't even in the same country!"

"Well, universally, they could be considered similar," Brick disagreed.

"What? No way! They're nothing alike. It's like playing basketball with a baseball!"

"Hey, heads up. I think it's time," Brick nudged Boomer.

"Alright. Let's do this." Boomer pressed the buzzer on the wall and waited. A couple of seconds later, the door creaked open, and a disgusting, tattered, green man stood there, staring back at us, and then backed up behind the door as the boys escorted themselves inside. They closed it behind them.

"Hey there, guys," Brick said in a jolly-sounding tone, "how you doin?"

There were three people in the room: a man in a white lab coat sitting at a little round table with a takeout bag and burgers resting on the top, as well as a large drink, a slender, green beatnik reclined on the sofa with eyes fixed on us, and of course, the grubby dude who was standing in a corner behind the door.

"We're associates of your business partner, Mojo Jojo. You **_do_** remember your business partner?" Brick was doing all the talking, still maintaining his mellow, jolly mood. He raised a finger and began to wave it around. "Now lemme take a wild guess... you're the Professor, correct?" He pointed at the man seated at the table.

"Y-yeah," the guy stuttered, clearly nervous. His eyes began to shift around the room.

"Well, you do remember your business partner, Mojo Jojo... don't you, Professor?" Total silence followed as Boomer began to walk across the living room.

"Looks like me and Boomer caught you guys at breakfast! Sorry about that. Whatcha' having?"

"H-hamburgers," Professor stammered, displaying the meal that sat before him.

"**_Hamburgers_**! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast!" Brick responded, uproariously. "What kinda hamburgers?"

"Ch-cheeseburgers."

"Nonononono, I mean where'd you get em. McDonalds, Wendy's, Jack in the Box?"

Professor shrugged once more and motioned to the bag, "Umm... Big Kahuna Burger." Brick's face glowed.

"**_Big Kahuna Burger_**! That's that Hawaiian burger joint, right? I hear they got some tasty burgers. Now I ain't never had one myself. How are they?"

"Th-they're good," Professor stammered.

Do you mind if I try one of yours?"

"Um, I guess not."

"This one's your's, right?" He pointed at the one in front of Professor.

"Yeah." Professor nervously told him. Brick picked it up in his hand and took a decent-sized chomp. He chewed for a couple of seconds, raised his eyebrows at the burger, and nodded.

"**_Mmmhmm_**... This **_is_**, a tasty burger! Hey Boomer," he asked Boomer from across the room, who had wandered back into the small kitchen area. He looked up. "You ever had a Big Kahuna Burger?" Boomer remained silent and shook his head 'no.' "You wanna try a bite? They're real good!"

Again, Boomer shook his head. "I ain't hungry." He was searching around for something in the kitchen. He took out a lollipop and began to suck on it.

"Well, if you find the time, go try em' out!" He took another bite and shifted back onto Professor. "Me, I don't usually get to eat beef, mostly cuz my girlfriend's a vegetarian, which, I guess sort of makes me a vegetarian." He took another bite and stopped. Then, he pointed at the professor. "Do you know what they call a quarter-pounder with cheese in France?"

"Uh... no."

"Tell him, Boomer."

Boomer raised his voice from the kitchen. "A _royale with cheese_."

"**_Royale with cheese_**," Brick spoke up once more, in between chew cycles. "You know why they call it that?" He gave a closed smile.

The Professor thought for a second, sweating. "Umm... because of the metric system?"

Brick perked up, looking at him, surprised. "Check out the big brain on Professor! You're a smart mofo, that's right! The metric system!"

He shoved the rest of the burger into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Mmmmm..." He wiped his mouth with a napkin and pointed at the drink. "What's in this?"

"Uhm... Sprite."

"Sprite, good. Do you mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this meal down?"

Professor shrugged, "G-go right ahead."

Brick grabbed the soda and brought the straw to his lips, never taking his eyes off of Professor. He took multiple sips until he was drinking nothing but oxygen. "Aaaahhhh... That hit the spot!" He retracted from the straw, symbolizing his refreshment and rested the cup back onto the table. Suddenly, he grew more serious. He turned around and clapped his hands at the beatnik.

"You, Beastie Boy... you know why we're here? Why don't you tell my main man, Boomer, where y'all got the stuff."

"Ppfft-" the disgusting man next to the door started to spit and say something, pointing at the kitchen area, when Brick suddenly turned around and shouted at him.

"_**I don't remember asking you a single damn thing!**_" He interrupted. The guy instantly shut up. Brick turned back around to Snake, the beatnik. "So, where is it?"

"It's, in the cupboard," he said nervously, tilting his head towards the kitchen. Boomer walked over to the nearest cupboard, above his head, and opened it up. "No, the one by your knees." With this new instruction, Boomer looked down, bent over and opened up the cabinet underneath the sink. He found a large briefcase and pulled it up onto the countertop. Knowing the combination, he opened it up. He froze and took the sucker out of his mouth and just stared in awe at the contents. A golden glow emanated from the case in all its glory. He zoned out for a couple of seconds.

"We happy?" Brick asked Boomer from the living room. He didn't seem to notice. "**Boomer,**" Brick asked in a stern, louder voice. Boomer returned to his senses and looked up after hearing his name. "We happy?" He asked with a smile.

"Oh yeah. Yeah, we happy," Boomer snickered, closing the case.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't get your names... Boomer, was it? Your name's Boomer?" Professor looked at Boomer, who stood in the edge of the living room, behind him. He shifted back towards Brick. "But what's uh, your n-"

"My name's 'Pit,' and your ass ain't talking your way outta this shit!" Brick's smile turned stone cold. Professor spoke up again.

"I just want-" he began to stand up from his chair, but Brick motioned for him to remain seated. Brick was turned away from Snake, looming over the professor. "I just want you boys to know how sorry we are, th-that things got so screwed up between us and Mr. Mojo! We got into this thing with the best intentions, really-" Brick, without turning around or looking away, suddenly took his pistol that he had tucked behind his belt, reached back, and shot Snake in the chest, killing him instantly. Grubber the doorman and Professor jumped in terror. Boomer stood there, going to work on his lollipop.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" Brick asked Professor, who now shook uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to do that... please, continue!" He began to walk back and forth in front of the table. "You were saying something about, 'best intentions?" Professor sat there, sweating profusely and babbling incomprehensibly. "Oh, what's the matter?... Oh, you were **_finished_**? Well, allow me to retort..." Brick paused and leaned down, reaching eye level with the professor, less than two feet from his face. "What does Mojo Jojo, look like?"

"Uh... What?" Professor choked out. Brick stepped forward and flipped the table out of the way with one hand and stood directly over Professor.

"**_What country you from?_**" He began shouting.

"W-what-"

"**_What' ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in 'What?_**"

"**_W-What?_**"

"**_English, motherfucker! Do-you-speak-it?_**"

"**_Yes!_**"

"**_Then you know what I'm sayin!_**"

"**_Yes!_**"

"**_Describe, what Mojo Jojo, looks like!_**"

"W-what? I-" Brick raised his gun and pointed it directly between Professor's eyes.

"**Say what again. Say, what, again! I dare you, I double-dare you, mothafucka! Say 'what' one more time!**"

"H-h-he's black and green!"

"**_Go on_**!"

"H-he's short!"

"**_Does he look like a bitch?_**"

"What?" Brick pumped a slug into the professor's arm. He shrieked in writhing pain as he grabbed his wound.

"**_Does, he, look... like, a bitch?_**"

"Noooo!" Professor cried out.

"_Then why'd you try and screw him like a bitch, Professor?_"

"**_No, I didn't!_**"

"Yes you did! Yes, you, did, Professor! You tried to screw him! But Mojo Jojo don't like to be screwed, by **_anybody_**, except Mrs. Jojo... Do you read the Bible, Professor?"

"Yes!" He winced in pain as he remained seated.

"Well, there's this passage that I have memorized, which seems to suit this sort of occasion... Ezekiel 25:17?" Boomer stood behind the professor and drew his pistol, waiting for Brick to finish his routine. "_The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly is brother's keeper, and the finder of lost children." _He began to take a couple of steps back._ "_**And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers! And you will know my name is The Lord... when I lay my vengeance upon thee!**_" _He aimed his pistol at the man seated before him, as did Boomer. Professor cried and covered his face with his arms as Brick and Boomer open fired.


End file.
